


there's a point (in all your dreaming)

by TheResurrectionist



Category: Batman - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Adoption, Batdad, Crossover, Drabble, Gen, Howard Stark's Bad Parenting, M/M, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, batfamily, look tony and bruce sharing parenting tips is my fluff dream ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 05:33:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16011317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheResurrectionist/pseuds/TheResurrectionist
Summary: “So,” Tony said, dropping the folder of papers on Bruce’s desk. “You’ve filled these out before, right?”





	there's a point (in all your dreaming)

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick thing I wrote this afternoon. Thanks again to the Superbat discord.

“So,” Tony said, dropping the folder of papers on Bruce’s desk. “You’ve filled these out before, right?”

Bruce glanced at the bright red folder, setting down his coffee. He reached for his reading glasses, watching Tony out of the corner of his eye. “Depends what they are.”

“I’ll give you a hint,” Tony said, shifting slightly. He was nervous then. _Interesting_. “They’re your favorite kind.”

Bruce opened the folder, sliding out the first of a half-dozen stapled copies. He skimmed the first three quickly, eyebrows rising.  

“Adoption papers,” he said, surprised. When he glanced up at Tony, his friend was staring at the wall, vibrating in his dress shoes. “You’re adopting Parker?”

“Stephen suggested it might be a good idea--”

“This was you,” Bruce interrupted, shaking his head. “Tony. I know your writing when I see it. You used _stringent_ twice in the first paragraph.”

“So are you going to help me or not?”

Tony’s cheeks were slightly pink. Bruce decided not to push it any further.

“You’ve got a good chance,” he said, removing his glasses. He set the red folder on the desk, amused to see Tony’s gaze follow it, full of concern. “You and Stephen have a few years on record as parental figures. The aunt is willing to terminate adoption rights. The only concern I can see the judge bringing up is…”

“The Avengers.” Tony finished for him, lips pursing. “The Accords. And my less than stellar stint as an arms dealer.”

“I wouldn’t lead with that, no.”

Tony pushed forward, on a roll. 

“Even before then, we're not exactly shining paragons of stability. There was that time at MIT--" Bruce cringed, remembering it vividly. "--and that time Stephen disappeared into the Himalayan mountains and completely abandoned his life to join a cult,” Tony said, breathing quickly. He looked at Bruce, blinking. “No offense, though.”

“I didn’t join a c--” Bruce cut himself off, hesitating. _Actually, that’s fair._ “I wouldn’t hold it against him, anyway.”

Tony sat suddenly, pressing his hands together. On close examination, they were shaking slightly. “So, is there a judge you usually bribe for this kind of thing? A lawyer you use to spin the whole ‘reckless playboy’ shtick into ‘stable, loving home’?”

Bruce stared at his friend, silent. Now that he wasn’t talking, Tony’s face was slack, dark circles visible under his eyes. A hand subconsciously drifted toward the arc reactor, tapping it nervously.

“Be honest,” he said, closing the folder. He slid it across the desk, thinking of the last time he’d filled out the same forms. “Talk about Stephen and your partnership. Emphasize how you’re a team. And how much you love Peter, above everything else.”

“I _highly_ doubt you and Clark bared it all to the good state of New Jersey,” Tony said, deflecting. “Unless you managed to find a way to spin _alien from space_ into some kind of sob story about growing up in a different country, or something.”

Bruce stared at his friend, waiting. The silence stretched between them. Tony scoffed.

“Seriously?”

“We took certain... _liberties_ with Clark’s section of the petition,” Bruce said, hiding a smile as Tony made a noise. “Damian needed someone who’d been in a similar situation. The fact that he was growing up in a house with someone who’s always felt like an outsider really resonated with the judge.”

Tony nodded, leaning forward. He propped his elbows on his knees, uncharacteristically quiet. Bruce let him think it over, content to wait.

“I don’t wanna fuck this up,” he finally said, quietly admitting it to Bruce’s shag carpet. “I _can't_ fuck this up. Stephen and Peter... _fuck,_ Bruce, they’re just--they’re--”

Tony ran his hands through his hair, letting out a frustrated noise. Bruce smiled, remembering the times he’d done the same thing, Clark’s reassuring hand on his shoulder as he stared at the forms that could upend their lives. 

“It’s a big deal,” he said, standing to join Tony on the other side of the desk. “You’re becoming parents. This isn’t negotiating a merger or buying a building. You don’t get to just walk out when it’s boring, or when things get difficult.”

Tony snorted. “I think my father would have disagreed with you.”

“Fuck your father.”

The other man blinked at him, stunned. Bruce crossed his arms, standing by the point.

“You’re a better man than he ever was,” he said. Tony flinched, ducking his head again. “And Peter doesn’t know how lucky he is to have you.”

There was a long pause. Bruce waited, listening to his friend's breathing even out. It was bizarre to be on the opposite end of things, this time, but not unwelcome. 

“When the hell did you get so sentimental?” Tony scrubbed a hand across his face. “It’s creepy.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Bruce said, hiding another smile. He glanced at the picture frames on his desk, fingers itching to call Clark. “Now. Before we both exhaust our emotional reserves for the night--”

“Speak for yourself, Wayne--”

“--why don’t we go get a drink?” Bruce finished, grinning. “Invite Stephen. I haven’t seen him in forever. Clark won’t stop talking about his cape.”

"Cute,” Tony quipped, pulling out his phone to text his husband. His hands were steadier now. “Jealous his isn’t sentient?"

“Probably.”

Tony pocketed his phone, taking a breath. He met Bruce’s gaze this time, a smile hinting at his lips.

“I’m giving you a one-time, blanket acknowledgement of my gratitude,” he said, sliding a pair of tinted glasses out of his jacket. The red folder disappeared into the pocket, handled like precious cargo. “Let’s go get drunk, old man.”

“You’re three years older than me.”

“Yeah, yeah.”


End file.
